


French Lessons

by ElloMenoP, je_suis_le_petit_lapin



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: AU, BDSM, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 08:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3844597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElloMenoP/pseuds/ElloMenoP, https://archiveofourown.org/users/je_suis_le_petit_lapin/pseuds/je_suis_le_petit_lapin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic is from an AU je-suis-le-petit-lapin and I got going on. Scout is sent to live with his biological father, Papa Spy (we haven’t named him yet lol) and he wants Scout to learn French. He hires young and impoverished immigrant Émile, (BLU spy) for the job. Given Scout’s unbearable attitude and Papa Spy’s strict nature he allows Émile to use corporal punishment if necessary. </p>
<p>This becomes a serious issue as Scout develops a crush on his French tutor, begins to discover his interest in BDSM, and finds out that his love already has a boyfriend, an irritating Australian named Mick. Émile has a tendency to bring Mick along to their studies and the man wants nothing more than to see this spoiled kid spanked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	French Lessons

“Hey Scout, don’t you usually have to take a nap or something? Little boys your age and all.”

If possible, Scout’s scowl deepened. He didn’t know who this asshole was. Well no, he knew he was his French tutor’s boyfriend, but he didn’t know why this asshole was in his house. And he didn’t know why he kept teasing him so damn much. He was getting dangerously close to the breaking point, every little quip about how he got… ugh, ‘punished’ was making his blood boil. He already hated the fact that he got spanked at his age, hated that his crush had put him over his knee, and he despised the fact that this asshole knew all about it.

“No, I don’t have to take naps,” Scout growled out, gripping his pencil so hard it snapped in half.

“Scout!” Émile chided, then switched to French. “ _Ne te fâche pas_!”

When the boy didn’t respond Émile sighed. "You don’t have any idea what I just said, do you?”

Mick grinned and shifted in his seat, leaning forward with eagerness. This had to be it, Scout was going to get spanked right in front of him, any second now.

Scout crossed his arms. “So?”

“Scout,” Émile warned. He pulled out a new pencil and told him, “Exercises five through fifteen please.”

Mick couldn’t believe it! Was his boyfriend deliberately teasing him? Dangling the image of Scout bent over and begging before his very eyes? Did he place the cane right there on the kitchen table just to piss him off? He huffed and mirrored Scout’s sulky expression, realized how he must look and dropped the sulk. “I don’t know, love, he seems a bit cranky. Maybe you should put him down for a nap.”

The boy’s head flew up, face enraged. “I don’t take naps!” He yelled.

“Scout!” Émile hissed. “You are not helping your case. And Michael, what am I supposed to do if he’s napping? Hmm? Teach French to the kitchen table?”

Mick slid his chair closer to his partner’s and moved his hand right into his lap. “Well, I can think of a few things to pass the time.”

The Australian wished he’d done that sooner; his moves on Émile set Scout off much quicker and far better than any little joke about his immaturity ever could. Scout childishly swept all his worksheets, books, and supplies off the table, sat back in his chair with his arms crossed and a pout on his face.

“Well, if you’re not going to work than I’m not either!”

Mick could hardly contain his excitement when Scout stomped his foot for good measure.

Émile’s mouth dropped, though he quickly composed himself. “Maybe we should put you down for a nap if this is how you’re acting. Now pick those up!”

Scout was too angry to do what he was told. “Fuck you! You can’t even come to work without bringing your boyfriend along, so you two can flirt with each other instead of actually teaching me.”

His face was the picture of defiance, and Émile’s hand wrapped around the cane without even realizing it, probably because Mick had slid it closer to him.

"Get up.” Émile’s tone was even, cold, and Scout could tell he was trying to hold back from something. Scout slowly stood up, and Émile walked around to behind him to shove the chair out of the way. He roughly pushed Scout’s torso down over the table.

The first swing of the cane caused Scout to yelp, and Mick started to smile. “You do not talk to me that way.” Émile said, in the same even tone, and brought the cane down again to Scout’s ass.

Émile continued to cane him, and all Scout could look at was Mick’s stupid fucking face, smirking at him and his predicament.

“Take your jeans off.” Émile said, but Scout didn’t move his hands. Raising his head, Émile gave a pleading look to Mick.

“On it.”

Scout tried to move out of the way, but Émile’s hand was still pushing him down onto the table. Mick knelt at Scout’s side, making quick work of the button and zipper and sliding his jeans down to his knees. Scout squirmed with renewed vigor and Mick almost laughed.

“No! Stop! You’re not going to cane me in front of him!” Scout fought back, harder than ever before. He got out of Émile’s grip and pulled his jeans back up, almost had them re-buttoned when Mick grabbed him around his middle.

“Oh, no, where do you think you’re going?”

Scout kicked and thrashed while Mick lifted him off his feet and toward his tutor, Émile had pulled the chair back into place and was sitting on it patiently. He was holding a wooden spoon. He seethed, he yelled, he struggled. He was not going to be spanked in front of this asshole, no way in hell.

“Put me down! You can’t do this!”

He could hear Mick’s laughter right in his ear. “Uppity little one, ain’t he?”

“Very uppity,” Émile agreed. “Scout, stop making it harder on yourself.”

“Fuck you!”

Émile sighed as he troubled through unbuttoning Scout’s jeans while the boy twisted in Mick’s hold. It was difficult to get him over his lap, and difficult to keep him there, but once Mick pulled another chair over and held Scout’s wrists in his lap Émile had a much easier time. He held the boy tight around his middle and brought the spoon down over the few cane marks left behind.

“Stop! I said stop!” Scout still sounded too sure of himself for Émile to stop.

He brought the spoon down as many times as he could in one second. He had no pattern to his smacks, the broad flat head of the spoon fell all over Scout’s reddening ass, it looked painful but not quite the way Émile wanted. He recalled all the times he was over Mick’s knee and remembered the way he’d hit him. Émile started to spank the same area twice in a row making Scout’s leg scrape along the kitchen floor. He followed that action again over other areas, soon Scout’s legs were kicking at air, trying to get him away from the spoon.

“Ah! Fuck!”

“Don’t feel so good, does it?” Mick asked, his voice thick and aroused. Émile couldn’t wait to get him alone.

Émile soon started to hit the same area three or four times in a row, that really got Scout wiggling. Mick tried to memorize the feel of Scout trying to pull his hands away from his grip, the way the boy’s back arched when Émile smacked him particularly hard. He was mentally cataloging his hisses and gasps, just waiting for the begging to start. And start they did, as soon as Émile targeted Scout’s sit spot he began howling and kicking more than ever.

“Ow! God! Émile, stop!”

“Am I finally teaching you something?”

“Ah ahh! Émile, come on! This isn’t- oww- fair!” Scout pulled and pulled with his arms, but dammit! Mick’s grip was too solid, oh god, all he wanted to do was bring a hand back to protected his hurting ass. It was starting to sting beyond belief, and Émile was not letting up. Scout was trying to calculate the loss of pride over apologizing now, or holding out and risking becoming a crying mess. He hazarded a look behind him, trying to see Émile’s face and if it held any sympathy.

“Oh, don’t worry, Roo, your bum’s getting nice and red.”

That solidified it. Scout was not going to be asking for forgiveness, and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to cry. He took a big breath and grit his teeth, determined to outlast Émile’s smacks.

“Oooh look at this love, he’s trying to be a big boy, trying to take his spanking all stoic-like.”

“We’ll see about that,” Émile responded and brought the spoon down harder. He focused on the center of Scout’s left cheek for some time, long enough to make Scout tense and jump and squirm. Then he gave the right cheek the same treatment, feeling Scout getting closer and closer to breaking.

“Mmm-ah!” Scout clamped his mouth shut mid-grunt. He was going to get through this.

Then Émile hit even harder, and square on the sensitive flesh between his buttocks and thighs, right as Mick leaned down to whisper at Scout, “You’re lucky it isn’t me spanking you, you wouldn’t last this long.”

“Ahh okay! Okay!”

“Okay, what?” Émile snapped. “Okay, no more spanking? Okay, you’re not going to act like a naughty little boy anymore? Okay, you’re going to stop being so rude? Okay, what?”

“Okay, no more!” Scout screeched and wiggled, tears had just started pouring down his face, he could feel his bottom lip wobbling and he tried to hide it.

Émile was not feeling compassionate just then, not after being disrespected all day. “Then. Let’s. Hear. An. Apology.” Each word was punctuated with a smack.

He stopped spanking for the first time since Scout went over his knee, giving him a moment to think. Mick was drinking in every little squirm Scout made, his pathetic sniffles, he even put a finger underneath his chin to lift his face up so he could get a good look at all the tears. Poor little thing immediately moved his eyes downward and tried to draw his head away. Mick’s smile deepened.

The tiniest, "Sorry,” was heard. Shortly followed by “Ow!” as Émile landed a hard spank to the boy’s backside.

“Sorry? That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself?” He started up again, spoon against flesh until Scout was full on sobbing and a rushed apology was spewed out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ll listen I swear! Just stop please, Émile stop!” He kicked and cried. “I won’t throw my books! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please!”

“There we go!” Mick cheered. “That’s what we’re looking for. And you even seem real sincere about it.”

Émile finally stopped the spoon, he tossed it on to the kitchen table with a clatter before running a hand down Scout’s back. “Now listen to me, I think you do need a nap-”

“Nooo,” Scout whined.

“No?” Émile was in disbelief. “No? Are you sure? Because I can put you over the table and use the cane again.”

“No, no, don’t!” Scout begged.

“So you’ll take your nap?”

Scout sniffled, “Yes.”

“Good. And after your nap you’re going to be much more agreeable, won’t you?”

Scout nodded, too embarrassed to speak again, but Émile slapped his bottom with a hand and he yelped, “Yes, monsieur!“

"Mm, yes, you’re going to be such a good little boy.” Scout resented the way Mick sounded, like the cat who ate the canary.

He was lifted off Émile’s lap, and he went to pick his jeans and underwear up from around his ankles but Émile stopped him.

“No, no, you don’t need those.”

Mick loved how pathetic the boy sounded when he whimpered, “Émile…”

“Stop that.” Émile grabbed Scout’s wrist and led him out of the room, his bare, red ass in perfect view of Mick, who was following behind. He loved how dominant his boyfriend was acting, loved how childish Scout looked, the way he was struggling to keep up with Émile’s pace as he was led up to his room, and how he kept rubbing at his sore bottom.

Mick stopped in the doorway to lean against the frame and watch Scout’s humiliation.

“Take that shirt off,” Émile ordered as he pulled back the covers to Scout’s bed. The boy wiped at his eyes before looking between Émile and back at Mick, clearly embarrassed to undress in front of him. “Now Scout.”

He reluctantly followed the order, even kept his mouth shut while Émile laid out clothes for him to sleep in. Scout got into the bed and allowed his tutor to tuck the blanket around him, all the while avoiding eye contact with Mick. Émile patted his head and softly told him, “No more misbehaving, young man. We have a lot of work to get through today and I won’t hesitate to put you back over my knee.”

Then he drew the blinds close and gently shut Scout’s door.

Mick and Émile shared one long look before their monosyllabic conversation.

“Sex?”

“Now.”

—

Scout woke up sometime later; his room was a bit darker so it must have been early evening. He redressed in jeans and a t-shirt and went to leave, but his hand hovered over the doorknob. Was he allowed to leave? Should he wait for Émile to come and get him?

“Ugh, idiot!” He shook his head. He did not wait for anyone, he did not need permission to leave his own damned room, in his own damned house!

Still, he quietly turned the knob and peeked out into the hall just to be sure. He couldn’t hear anything, so he had no option but to investigate. Creeping down the hall he carefully avoided all the creaky floorboards and made his way to his father’s room. Very cautiously, he opened the door and peered inside.

He expected to find Mick and Émile fucking, or relaxing in the messy bed, or maybe even in the shower. But what he found was a tidy room with everything in its place. The bedsheets looked crisp and untouched, and no underwear was hanging from the chandelier.

Part of him was a little disappointed. He mentally shrugged and moved back into the hall, silently moving to his favorite spot to eavesdrop, right near the top of the stairs. He could hear a light conversation, a bit of laughter, and the drone of the television. A tiny part of him wanted to go back to his room and hide under the covers. He wasn’t sure if he could face the humiliation.

His larger, and much more prideful side took over. He descended the stairs with a frown, intent on telling both Émile and Mick off, intent on calling his father and complaining his way to a new tutor. But with each step closer, he lost a fraction of his confidence. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs and could see the silhouettes of Mick and Émile through the frosted glass doors of their television room, by the time he could hear their playful banter, all Scout wanted to do was cry again.

When he opened the doors he found Mick and Émile snuggling on the couch, Mick’s arm around Émile and his tutor’s head resting on the man’s shoulder. They must have seen his distress, or at least Mick must have, because he pulled away from Émile to make room for him on the couch, despite there being a multitude of seating options.

“Look who’s up,” Émile greeted.

“Come have a seat with us.” Mick patted the space between them.

Scout eagerly rushed over, feeling self conscious over how quickly he ate up their invitation, but Mick put his arm around him and suddenly that was all he cared about.

Émile patted his knee and said, “How about a snack, and then we get back to work?”

Scout hugged one of the couch’s plush throw pillows to his chest and nodded.

“What a good boy,” Mick commented.

And Scout’s heart soared at the praise.

Mick started to ruffle through Scout’s hair as Émile got up and made his way to the kitchen. Scout quickly leaned into the touch, even though he mentally cursed himself for seeming so eager.

“You know we don’t like to punish you, right? We just need you to be a good boy.”

It made sense to Scout. He nodded slowly, squeezing the pillow tighter to his chest and leaning his head onto Mick’s shoulder. Despite the fact that he just took a nap, he felt like he could fall asleep right there, and he lay on Mick for several minutes until either one of them spoke.

“I’m sorry for being such a brat.” Scout normally wouldn’t apologize for his behavior, especially not to his tutor’s boyfriend, but for some reason he felt like now was the right time.

Mick acknowledged his apology. “All forgiven, just try not to do it again, alright, sport?” Scout curled a bit further into Mick’s torso, and the door to the television room opened. Émile entered, carrying a grilled cheese sandwich and a small bowl of tomato soup, leftovers from their own lunch.

Setting them down on the coffee table in front of the couch, Émile walked around to sit himself next to Scout. “Eat up, we’ve got a lot of learning to do afterwards.” As Scout lifted himself off of Mick to gobble down his food, Mick leaned over to Émile.

“Can you believe this?“ Mick whispered, Émile mirroring his incredulous face. Scout had been the epitome of willful since he first met Émile.

"Non, but let’s hope it lasts.” He guffawed, both of them moving back to surround Scout, who had finished his sandwich and was now draining the soup.

When Scout set the bowl down on the glass tabletop, Émile pulled him back into the couch and squished him between Mick and himself. “I think it’s time we had a long discussion about the three of us.“

The food in his belly suddenly felt like a mass of snakes. "Alright.”

“For starters,” Émile began, sitting up to look Scout in the face, “You will address me as ‘monsieur’.“

Scout swallowed, this was going to be a long conversation indeed.


End file.
